


Hallelujah

by Shawarmerei (livefromarkham)



Category: British Actor RPF, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Collars, D/s, Gay as hell, I've created a monster, Intersexuality, Less smut than intended but still has some smut in there, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Outlier first because I am a revolutionary, Sensory Deprivation, There's some angst up in here I think, This could probably be rated M but just in case, Tom's not a jerk in this one usually, Vague references to subspace, Whipping, Withholding magic, dominant!Tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 22:53:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livefromarkham/pseuds/Shawarmerei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Love is not a victory march. It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah." </p><p>One time Tom wasn’t in control of the situation, and five times when he was.</p><p>(A 5+1 fic with the outlier first.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hallelujah

1\. When the blindfold came off, Tom found that things were certainly not as he had expected.

He had been engaging in some rather kinky activity with this woman for some time now, always blindfolded, as if she were ashamed of herself, like she didn’t want Tom to see her body. It had reached its pinnacle, here, when she’d tied him to a chair and fucked him so thoroughly he could barely keep himself quiet enough to not wake the neighbors. And now, here he sat in the chair, still inside her (though they were both motionless, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that, close to orgasm as he was) and he could see again. Usually she would make him take it off himself. But tonight must have been a special exception, his hands still bound behind the back of the chair with something softer than usual—he was fairly sure she’d been wearing a scarf, based on the sounds she’d made when entering, and that may have been what she used—

When the blindfold was removed, all thoughts he may have had in his mind up until that point abruptly shut down. Thomas gaped.

Sitting completely nude on his lap was not, in fact, the woman he had always expected. Instead, the body so close to his, the body he was penetrating, belonged to an all-too-familiar face he’d seen countless times. It leaned in close to him, smirking, and the voice that came from its vocal chords was his own, with a slightly different color to it. “I presume this was not what you were expecting,” Loki stated. “Oh, how did you put it in your little video…” The god’s face drew even closer to Tom’s, grinning. “Loki’d.” 

Neither of them expected it when Tom climaxed immediately afterwords, his body shuddering under that of his doppelgänger.

 

+1. Loki growled. “Thomas, this is humiliating. I insist that you stop, at once.”

Tom shook his head, smiling. “You did the same thing to me, repeatedly. Besides, I’m not going to do anything to you. Not yet.” The god writhed, tried to break free of his bonds, but only succeeded at rolling off of the couch onto the floor. Tom, of course, knew that Loki was fully capable of freeing himself if he felt it necessary, so he just watched as he tensed his muscles, released, tensed, released. Finally, he lay still, looking up at Tom from the floor.

“Fine. I will allow you to take me, rather than the other way around, but only this once.”

Tom chuckled. “Sure,” he said as his hands slid under Loki’s back, setting him upright. Despite having been the one contained in all their previous encounters, Tom had faith that Loki would rather like this experience. For the most part, it was because Tom hadn’t known who he was dealing with when he was tied up.

Loki… Loki, he knew. He knew the deepest chambers of his heart, what made him tick and what made him squirm and what made his heart sing. Oh, he knew Loki. 

Anyone else might have found it difficult to convince the trickster that perhaps being the submissive one was more pleasurable, but Tom had made quick work of it. He knew exactly which strings to pull, which points to bring up. He knew Loki inside and out. And the best part was, he was an actor. Loki only knew as much as he wanted him to know. He helped Loki to his feet and led him to the bedroom, where he dropped onto the bed. “You’re not done yet,” Tom said, giving the dark-haired man a look as he leaned over and brushed his hand against the bulge in Loki’s trousers. “I’ll rid you of these, but first you have to undress me.”

Loki scoffed. “With what? You’ve bound my wrists.” Tom laughed a little.

“Surely you’re more creative than that.”

Glaring at him, the god leaned in and started to unbutton Tom’s shirt with his teeth. 

As he sat back and watched him, the actor thought more about the dynamic of the relationship. Tom didn’t really like that he had to play on the fact that Loki knew next to nothing about him, but he did see where the lack of knowledge would be an advantage when the other participant was one as unpredictable as Loki. Keeping his weaknesses close to him would be useful, at least until Loki was convinced that this really was what he wanted. If he didn’t, then Loki could easily turn the tables on him and become the dominant one. And Tom knew that Loki had far less restraint than he did. That could be disastrous in all aspects of Tom’s life, as he also knew that Loki would probably grow obsessive. He didn’t want a relationship with an abusive Loki weighing over his head. It also occurred to him that if the god ever felt uncomfortable with the situation, _truly_ uncomfortable, he would most likely break his bonds and kill Tom. A cynical smirk spread across his lips just as a moan—half arousal, half indignation—escaped Loki’s. He’d just finished with the shirt and had reached Tom’s jeans.

He would just have to be careful to keep the power well and truly in his hands, then.

 

+2. It had taken Tom some time to get used to the idea of being dominant, but he’d managed quite well, all things considered. He’d also found that Loki didn’t like being tied up. His strong tendency toward struggling would often loosen the bonds, and then Tom would have to tighten them, over and over and over. Neither of them were particularly fond of this. The actor found that shackles were far more effective. Still, something about it felt… off. Loki wasn’t fighting it as much as he originally did, and he was easing into the idea, but there was still some bitterness hidden there that Tom knew he was keeping locked away in his chest.

A while later, Loki asked if he could move in with Tom. He was, of course, perfectly alright with that, especially considering the dynamic of their relationship. It had been getting rather difficult to communicate, and the actor didn’t really know if it was appropriate to call the god and ask him if he was open for a quick fuck. Though Tom was the dominant one, Loki had initiated all their contact. Mostly because Tom had no idea what he did in his spare time. As it would turn out, the answer was not much. He stayed home most of the time, but still managed to contribute to the rent as Tom requested that he do if he was going to stay. Tom didn’t want to know where he was getting the money, to be frank. Things escalated after that, as they are prone to do when two people move in together and have every intent of having sex.

Finally, one night, he found out why it had seemed so strange. They’d just finished for the night, and Loki was halfway through noting that it was peculiar but entirely alright by him to be stimulated in both sets of genitals at the same time (and was also praising Tom’s dexterity in doing so, which was strange since Loki didn’t compliment often) when he seemed to remember something and nearly launched himself off the bed, still nude, darting out of the bedroom and returning with a box. Tom sat up as he returned and gave him a look. “Loki, I know you’re just getting into the internet, but if you think I’m going to appreciate the ‘dick in a box’ joke, you’re sorely mistaken.” The god shook his head, seeming uncharacteristically serious. “Is something wrong?” Tom asked, turning on the light near his bed. Again, he shook his head, crawling into bed next to Tom and putting the box in his lap. “This… this is yours.” He tipped his head down. Tom blinked at him, then moved to open the box. It was probably a prank or something. That had happened once or twice since Loki had moved in.

Nothing jumped out of the box at him. It didn’t shock him when it opened, nor was it empty. Inside of it, there lay an unadorned black strap of leather with a buckle on it. It was strange, how something so seemingly mundane could make Tom’s stomach do flips. He looked from the contents to Loki and back again, not sure what to make of the situation. What was it supposed to mean? Was he reading more into it than he should’ve been? Just to be sure he knew what was going on, he turned to Loki, taking a deep breath and picking up the accessory. “Is this…?”

Loki smiled, giving him a nod and continuing to look away from him as he spoke. “A collar. Yes. It is of Aesir make. I asked Thor to get it for me, and he supported the idea tied to it. It also suppresses my magic.”

Tom turned back to look down at the leather in his hands. “What exactly…”

Normally, Loki would have gotten incredibly impatient with him for not understanding right away. But, he supposed, since this was a very emotional place for him to be if he was reading into the situation correctly, he had cooled his temper just for a while and was willing to explain. His voice came out a little smaller than usual. “I’ve been… thinking. About us. And I’ve come to realize that I really do enjoy being dominated by you, as you said I would. I tried to fight it, but… in the end, you know me better than I know myself.” He scooted a little closer to Tom, who was still sitting, somewhat dumbstruck, with the box in his lap and staring at the collar in his hands. “What I’m trying to say,” Loki said, chewing on his lower lip, “is that I trust you, and because of that, I want to belong to you. I want to be tied down in more ways than one. It’s been a very long time since I’ve trusted anyone, and I want you to…” He trailed off, falling silent mid-sentence.

But that was alright. Tom knew what he wanted. It was a bit surreal, having the god willingly submit to him and give him an object of such… certainty, such definition. It was an indicator that Loki definitely wanted this, and could become incredibly sensitive if Tom didn’t. That, of course, was an entirely ridiculous concept, since he’d been the one to introduce it. He smiled, setting the box aside, but keeping the collar in hand. “Loki,” he started, tipping the god’s chin up to look at him, “this means a lot to me. I appreciate that you’ve chosen me, so much, because during this I’ve found I really want you.” He took a deep breath, then continued. “I want to own you.” He slipped his other hand, the hand clutching the leather, around the back of Loki’s head, under his hair. “And I…” He meant to say something sappy, but nothing would come out, so instead he just shook his head and fastened the collar. “There. More than words can say.”

Loki’s hand drifted up to meet his neck, feeling where the leather met skin, and smiled. “Thank you,” he said almost so quietly that Tom couldn’t hear him. It was strange, seeing him so vulnerable, so soft. Tom… quite liked it, actually, if he were to be honest. His hands stopped on Loki’s shoulders for a while, then sank down back onto the bed. He was beautiful when he submitted. He always had been, but now moreso than ever, with his head bowed practically in reverence—a god bowing to a mortal—and it had all been of his own volition. That, he thought, was probably the strangest part. That he would give himself so willingly to someone below him. That he would let himself be owned. That he _wanted_ to be owned. To each their own, Tom supposed. And now… now, Loki was his own. It was strange, thinking of him that way, but he had to start. It was what the god wanted. Perhaps that was why it had seemed strange before—he hadn’t been entirely certain that this really was what Loki wanted. He smiled to himself, hooking a finger in the buckle of the collar and pulling the god forward.

“You’re mine,” he whispered into Loki’s ear. “You belong to me now. Not Thor. Not Sigyn. Me. You are _mine._ ”

“Yes,” Loki responded, his voice breathy, needy, and Tom ensnared him in a kiss as he turned out the light.

 

+3. Strangely enough, after this encounter, Loki often made Tom work to get him to be submissive, and as was to be expected, at times in their relationship, Loki was disobedient. Tom was anything but surprised, but it was necessary for disciplinary measures to be put into place, so perhaps Loki would stop his behavior. And Tom knew just the thing. “Loki, you realize what has to happen now, don’t you?” The god shivered. Not out of cold, of course, though for anyone else it would've been sensible since he was wearing nothing on the upper half of his body save for his shackles and his collar. No, Loki was a frost giant, so Tom could only guess it was from antici—

"Get on with it.”

—pation.

Loki almost sounded eager. Tom wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “Since you’re so excited to start,” Tom said, turning toward a box under the bed and crouching down next to it, “I suppose you can be punished a little earlier than I intended.” First, though, he had to mentally prepare himself. Many parts of their relationship hinged on Tom being an actor. Most of them were to protect him from the god, to keep him in control. But this… this, he realized, was to protect him from himself, in a way. Were he to enter this situation normally, his unwillingness to hurt others would certainly weigh down on him, and he would have been in tears long before Loki was. What he needed was to detach himself from the situation, from what he was doing. And he did so with incredible finesse. In the span of a second, his mind completely shifted from his normal personality to something a little different. Still definitely colored with Tom’s personality, but it was darker. More relentless. More cruel. This wasn’t him, he told himself repeatedly, it was just a role, and he slipped into the role like he would any other character, like he was born to do it.

He opened the box, revealing a plethora of props he’d snuck off the sets of movies he’d been in. The one he chose, however, was somewhat special given the situation. He pulled it out, agonizingly slow in his movements, and smiled. “You know, it’s funny,” he said, cradling it at first, then letting all but the handle fall to the floor. “I had to learn how to use this for my first time playing you. They said that the way you threw your daggers…” and here, he moved so that the weapon snapped in front of Loki’s face, startling him like none other and making Tom grin like a maniac, “…was a lot like cracking a whip.” He stepped toward the bound god. “I do hope they have these on Asgard. Otherwise this will be a terribly unpleasant first encounter for you.”

The dark-haired one grimaced. “Believe me, I am all too familiar with whips and many other torture methods. I was not always the most well-behaved child.”

Tom laughed, and when he did, it came out far colder than he imagined it being. “Not terribly hard to believe. But this is now, Loki, and you really should know better.”

This made the god chuckle, as if he had forgotten that his lover was holding a weapon. “It is in my nature to be disobedient, so I have done this many times before. It cannot be as bad as the punishment on Asgard, which I have endured for centuries. Do your worst, Thomas.”

Tom, of course, took this as a challenge. “If that’s what you want,” he said with a smirk, then so be it.”

With little more than a flick of his wrist, the whip jumped across the room and laid itself out across Loki’s back. The god did little more than wince. Tom wasn’t really surprised. He was, for the most part, only testing the waters. Though, he thought, it might do him well to involve some emotional pain, as well. Loki had asked him to do his worst, and he didn’t intend to stop until the god was sobbing and begging for mercy at his feet. That was, after all, what he wanted. And so the whip cracked again, harder, and Loki breathed a little heavier.

This continued for some time. After a while, Tom pulled out the insecurities, and Loki went from heavy breathing and the occasional halfhearted grunt to tiny, almost pitiful whines. This wasn’t good enough for Tom, though, so he kept going. He soon discovered that when he preceded the torture with stimulation, Loki was far more reactive. Apparently, and unsurprisingly, they didn’t do this on Asgard, and the whines turned to yelps. This was progress, Tom thought, but still wasn’t quite good enough. His fingers made their way through the trickster’s hair, which was tangled and disheveled from his brief period of writhing on the floor. It had been somewhere between the points when Tom had unbuttoned Loki’s trousers and given his cock a long, slow stroke that nearly drove him insane; and when he had allowed his hands to roam up Loki’s chest, gently pinching a nipple and nearly coming close enough to kiss him. Yes, it was definitely between those two that Loki had fallen to the ground and writhed in surely the strangest blend of agony and arousal he’d ever experienced. 

“I have a riddle for you, Loki,” he said as he leaned down next to him, smiling. “What’s black…” Tom looked at his partner’s ruined hair, his pasty back, and the marks already developing there. “and white… and red all over?”

Loki groaned, only just managing to choke out the answer. “Book. You’ve told me before.”

Tom shook his head, laughing. “Not this time, love. This time, it’s you.” His hand glided down to cup Loki’s cheek, forcing him to look at Tom while he spoke. Tom was quite sure that Loki would much rather keep his eyes fixed on the floor so that he could hide his emotions, but that simply wouldn’t do. He looked absolutely pitiful like that anyway, with his wrists bound behind his back and his head turned toward the ground. Tom wouldn’t have it. “How long has it been?” he asked, something like care seeping back into his expression as it had done numerous times during the conversation. “Since you’ve been held, been cared about? I would think you would be a bit more grateful toward me. But no, you little _brat,_ ” he said as he stood and dealt another lash, “you still disobey me as if I were your father. I, unlike him, actually love you.”

For a moment, Tom thought that had been too sappy on his part, despite it never having been said before in their relationship, and paused to gauge Loki’s reaction. He was once again focused on the floor, but Tom decided to allow him to stay where he was this time. There was silence for several tense moments, then finally, Tom heard a strangled half-sob wring itself from the god’s throat. No, it had been perfect. Tom was rather pleased with himself. He dropped down into a crouch again, getting right in front of Loki, the whip dangling between his knees. “Look at me, Loki,” he said, and the god only just lifted his head high enough to make eye contact. Tears were streaming down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, having to choke out the apology. “I… I am grateful. So grateful.” He buried his face in the crook of Tom’s neck, his quiet whimpers turning vocal much more suddenly than Tom would have anticipated. He was just about to ask if he’d had enough when Loki managed one final statement—“I love you”—before completely falling to pieces and collapsing as he cried.

That was as much of an indicator as he needed. Loki would never admit such a thing unless he was thoroughly broken, had never done so before, which meant that Tom needed to stop. He took a deep breath, easing back into himself and shedding the act he’d put on so that he could start to fix him.

 

+4. After a while, Tom grew to love the sight of Loki bound and helpless. He loved seeing him cry, scream, whatever else he could muster, because he was to find that they were signs that he enjoyed it, too. What Tom didn’t like was the one time he pushed too hard. He’d never meant to, of course. He doubted he had it in him even when he was out of himself. Of course, he needed to do that less and less since they’d been doing this more and more, as he became comfortable with the idea that Loki liked this, he _wanted_ this, but after that encounter, it was going to be a very long time before either of them were to even attempt something again.

It had started out rather innocent, relatively speaking. It was just another night in, with Tom first depriving the god of his senses, then so carefully balancing pleasure and pain and administering them in just the right amounts to break his lover. This was, of course, what Loki wanted. Tears were streaming down his face from under the blindfold. He was bent over, hardly able to contain himself between the mounting sexual tension (and subsequent denial of orgasm, Tom was rather fond of not allowing Loki to come for a very, very long time) and the physical and emotional pain he was being dealt. He’d already broken down some time ago, but he had said before that he could be pushed past that, though how much he wasn’t sure. They’d know when they got there. He’d left the god for quite some time without any method of getting himself off, completely separated from the world and unable to do anything about it, the only sensory input he ever got coming from Tom. It was positively maddening. They’d done it once before, to great effect. Though, now that he thought about it, the first time he’d left, Loki had still been rather vocal. This time, he’d been almost silent, despite having been crying only a little before.

Now, though, Loki was sobbing far harder than before. Tom gave him a peculiar look, then dragged his hand slowly up Loki’s thigh, completely unclothed like the rest of him. The god shuddered, tried to move away from the sensation, but only succeeded in writhing uselessly against his bonds. Tom grinned, his hand making its way toward the center, ready to stimulate whichever set of genitals struck his fancy at the moment.

“No,” Loki whispered. “Stop. Please stop.” Tom was incredibly confused. It wasn’t really the notion of control that confused him—Loki often thought he had more power over the situation than he did, though he didn’t always act on it—but the fact that he was denying stimulation was perplexing, and how soft his voice was should have certainly been indicative of something. Loki was a very carnal creature with strong base desires. Tom wasn’t at all certain why he would refuse them, especially when he was so close to getting off. His hand stilled, then something incredibly important occurred to the actor. Most of the time, when Loki cried, it indicated that he’d just broken. That he was close to being finished. 

Without realizing it, Tom had left him like that, helpless and alone and naked and on the verge of orgasm and confined in his own head for maybe fifteen minutes, which had surely seemed like hours since he’d already been broken. He hadn’t given him any contact whatsoever, and when he had come back Loki had been sobbing and mumbling incomprehensibly. This was bad. This was very bad. He wasn’t aroused anymore, Tom noted, and wondered how he hadn’t noticed that before. He wasn’t turned on, he was just afraid. And he didn’t want more stimulation just so that he could be left again. Tom felt awful that he hadn’t noticed the crash, had _let_ Loki crash and hadn’t been there to help him. He’d left him to his imagination, and the last thing Loki wanted was to crash while he was alone.

When Tom withdrew his hand so that he could undo some of the bindings, or at the very least the blindfold, Loki started screaming. Not his usual wails, but something far louder, more depraved. “Thomas!” he wept, his body shuddering, not caring whether or not the neighbors heard him. Tom quickly put his hand on Loki’s thigh again, trying to be as comforting as possible while undoing the hearing apparatus. When it was finally removed, he ran his hand up Loki’s body to rest on his shoulder with the other one.

“Loki,” he whispered, “I’m here. It’s alright. You’re going to be okay.” Loki shook his head, still crying. He moved his hands up the back of Loki’s neck, up into his hair, and untied the blindfold, tossing it away as best he could considering he had to keep both his hands on Loki at all times. The god buried his face in Tom’s shoulder, his eyes bloodshot and weary.

Loki looked absolutely wrecked. There were few other ways to describe it, and Tom felt horrible for letting it happen. His hands snaked down again, moving to Loki’s, undoing the shackles that weighed there. He considered removing the collar, as well. Obviously he wasn’t worthy of handling another person in this sort of way, and Loki might feel better if he had his magic back. But he thought that might be even harder on Loki’s mental state at that point, so he decided against it and instead sat there with Loki cradled against him for an amount of time that didn’t really matter to either party, whispering encouragement to him all the while. “You’ve done wonderfully,” he said, stroking the god’s hair, “that was very admirable, I’m sorry for leaving you for so long, please, please breathe, it’s over now, you’re done.” At times, he seemed almost as frantic as Loki, desperate to help him, gently rubbing his back and arms and neck and really any part of him that he didn’t think would stimulate more sobbing. Loki pressed himself against Tom’s body, and eventually, the actor managed to get them both off the ground and onto the couch. Loki was still naked, and Tom felt terrible about that, but there was little that could be done about it right now. After a while, the sobs softened into tears, and Loki began to speak.

“After you got me worked up,” he started, trying to wipe tears from his eyes faster than they could fall and miserably failing, “and then stopped… I thought you were gone for good.”

Tom shook his head, smiling. “Why would I ever think of leaving you?” This, apparently, was the wrong question to ask, as Tom soon found out.

“Because… I think that it would be the ultimate torture that could ever be concocted.As punishment from Asgard. Rile me up, make me fall in love, and then take it all away and leave me alone, so painfully alone.” He buried his face in Tom’s shirt, and he knew that Loki was showing a side of him that he was usually completely loathe to even admit the existence of.

“Shh, love,” Tom replied, patting Loki’s hair. “I’m not going to leave you. I am sorry, though, that I scared you like that, and I don’t feel like I deserve to own you at this point.”

Loki shuddered, gripping Tom’s bicep. “D-don’t, Thomas. Mistakes happen. Please don’t let me go.” And he didn’t, holding onto Loki as tightly as he ever had, and mentally patting himself on the back for at the very least not undoing the collar like he’d thought of doing and, as he had anticipated, making matters far worse. He kept one hand firmly on the back of Loki’s head, holding him in close, while he grabbed his coat, long since discarded on a nearby chair, and wrapped it around Loki. He knew that cold didn’t really affect Loki, but he could feel warmth, and that was something he probably needed very badly right now. That, and comfort. Tom held him and kissed his forehead, and eventually the terrible shaking that enveloped Loki’s body died down. For what very well could have been only half an hour but might have been the rest of the day, they just sat there, mostly in silence, but Loki made very sure that his head was on Tom’s chest for this entire time, listening to his heartbeat whenever neither of them were speaking.

Tom didn’t do anything to him at all for maybe a month afterwords, and when he did it wasn’t much. He didn’t trust himself yet. But Loki never took the collar off, and that silent show of trust, that signifier that Loki was not angry, that he still wanted to be with Tom despite his occasional ungodly mistakes—that meant the world to him.

 

+5. If truth be told, though, his favorite part had always been helping Loki come out of that space within himself and back into the real world. To see the god rebuilt, to come back into himself eventually happier than he’d been before… That was what Tom liked best.

Loki wasn’t crying this time, but he’d screamed until his throat was raw, so Tom didn’t expect him to do much talking. At least, he thought, he’d found a way to keep their activities unknown while this was going on (they had to go into a well-padded room, since Loki despised gags and refused muzzles and Tom thought that, all things considered, he probably had a damn good reason and did not force them on him). Of course, they didn’t usually do much anyway as far as conversation went while Loki was coming down. For the most part, he just held the god close to him, stroking his hair and whispering appreciation, approval, and praise. Sometimes Loki would talk, but most times he just sat listening to Tom’s heartbeat. 

That was how it had gone since the accident. And, Tom thought, good had come of it. He had become much more careful, and since then had refused to abandon the god when he was deprived of his senses. He always stayed close, with a hand on his leg or his chest or his shoulder. Or, at the very least, when he had to do something with both hands, he would at least make sure their knees were touching, just so that the god knew he was not alone. Were Loki ever to mention that he wanted to be that completely wrecked again, Tom knew exactly how to do it. But the fact that he hadn’t had only made Loki trust him that much more. The knowledge that it only happened on accident in the first place and the way he’d reacted afterwords had been just what Loki needed. So, at least, now he knew exactly how to take care of Loki following an encounter, and he had some semblance of an idea as to what not to do.

“Doing better, love?” Tom asked, keeping a tight hold on him. Loki’s voice cracked as he tried to use it, so he gave a short nod instead, nuzzling further into the warmth of Tom’s chest. The actor smiled, patting Loki’s head. “Good. You know,” he started as he suppressed a yawn, “if we stay here much longer, I may very well fall asleep here.” It was very relaxing, after all, to just sit with Loki and make sure he was comfortable. And Loki seemed to like it too, much as he usually hated sitting still. Tom continued to stroke his hair, and Loki continued to listen to Tom’s heartbeat, and all was well with the world.

Then, just as he was drifting off, his phone beeped. He’d thought he had turned it off since he hadn’t wanted any interruptions, but apparently it had come back on at some point. He shuffled around with it for a moment, then took it out and looked at the text he’d received, smiling. Loki lifted his head, his eyes clouded a bit with sleep. He was exhausted. It’d been a long day for the both of them, and their method of unwinding had been far more intensive than either of them had thought. He gave Tom a quizzical look, and the actor leaned in to kiss his hair. “A cancellation. I had a few friends who wanted to do something later tonight, but it didn’t work out properly, so they’ve cancelled. So I suppose that means I’m staying here with you.” Loki wrapped his arms around Tom, getting comfortable and closing his eyes as he whispered a word Tom had never thought he’d say, one that he must’ve picked up from the media. It came out as wrecked as his voice, and with a bit of a sarcastic tint to it, as if he realized the irony in a Norse god saying it.

“Hallelujah.”

Tom only chuckled, and closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Stupid Rufus Wainwright and Leonard Cohen inspiring me to write things I know nothing about. I had to do ridiculous amounts of research just to begin this fic, so if I got facts wrong, I am deeply sorry that it has eluded my efforts.
> 
> I've never written smut before. So that's a thing.


End file.
